A Day to Think of Ghosts
by goodgriefsebastian
Summary: On Halloween, Dom, Mia, and Letty prepare for a visit to the cemetery where the late Toretto is buried.


_A Day to Think of Ghosts_

**~O~**

Through a large, yawning window, Letty watched rows of umbrellas, multihued and varied in size, bob up and down streets awash in an opaque autumn drizzle. She surveyed the scene with halfhearted interest, preoccupied with thoughts of the day's glum activity: a trip to the cemetery. She felt uneasy, and had even bitten at her fingernails; the macabre bothered her, as she considered its heavy gloominess stifling, and at times, inescapable. Her qualms about the visit, however, were intimate—Dom and Mia were unaware of her anxiousness, and this was how she preferred it.

The floorboards squeaked and Mia entered the bedroom, her flushed face as contorted as her wrinkled silk slip—clad in her undergarments, she had mistakenly ventured downstairs and into a kitchen brimming with men, and she had not emerged unscathed.

"Why aren't the boys at the garage? They're supposed to be at the garage," the girl hissed as she slammed the door. "I thought the house was empty."

"Well, choose a better set of armor next time—and not a silk slip."

"I thought the house was _empty_," Mia emphasized testily. "And thanks for your support."

Letty shrugged. Her insensitivity disappointed Mia.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Here, c'mon, I'll button up the back of your dress."

On top of the bed lay a simple black dress, blooming with pleated petals but narrow at the waistline; a single row of buttons adorned its back, drawing attention away from a set of sleeves that were both prudishly lengthy and snug. All in all, the outfit was unyieldingly austere, and to Mia its fabric felt foreign and uncomfortable.

Gingerly, the girl dressed.

"Ms. Dvořák sewed this, right?"

"Yeah, and the fitting took three hours. Three hours, Letty, under her goddamned scrutiny."

"And she tailored Dom's suit, too, huh? Gee, what a saint."

"Well, why not? It's a special occasion, after all." Mia flinched, immediately regretting her words; her tactless sarcasm had revealed a bitterness she had usually, until that moment, kept hidden from others.

They were silent, suddenly, and also contemplative. For the Torettos, an acrid somberness surrounded Halloween, propelled by tragedy and loss—and unhealed by time. Although heartfelt and abundant, diversions were pointless on Halloween because they too, at some point, ended. What, the Torettos often wondered, could combat the permanency of loss?

Ultimately, the ache remained.

As she clasped the last button, Letty ordered, "Fix your hair and let's go." Mia nodded, but did not register the anxiety plaguing the command.

With awkward hands, Mia secured her dark tresses in a ribbon and gently ruffled her bangs; but the solemnity of the occasion made the girl ashamed of her vanity, and with a final glance at the mirror, she relegated any remaining thoughts of appearance to the deep depths of her mind.

"You look pretty," Letty offered, and her envy showed.

"I look like a _widow_."

"You look _fine_. Can we eat the candy now?"

Tossing her friend a weary glance, Mia opened the drawer of her desk and produced a glass bowl abundant with lollipops and chocolates. But Letty's arched smiled signaled her gluttonous designs, and immediately Mia recoiled. "Just one," she spat, handing the girl a chocolate. "The rest is for the trick o' treaters."

Letty scoffed but pocketed the piece without protest. A sudden knock at the door startled the girls and, for a moment, enlivened their sulky spirits.

"It's probably Vince or Leon," whispered Mia, an edge in her voice, her narrowed eyes locked on the door.

"Please, as if they'd knock."

This was a good point, she admitted.

But her suspicions dictated her every thought until she opened the door, revealing Dom, stiff but dapper in a black suit. Letty smiled at him; Mia did not, and her melancholic languor returned. "Ready?" he asked in a low voice.

The girls replied that they were.

"Alright, let's go."

An umbrella in tow, Mia tiptoed down a stairway of eggshells, eager to elude her admirers in the kitchen. Dom and Letty, conversely, were unbothered by the crowded household and trailed the girl with heavy, clomping footsteps.

"Feelin' alright, man?" Conversation, Letty realized, was the only tactic able to combat her uneasiness. His reply was terse:

"You shouldn't bite your fingernails."

"Bad habit, I guess."

Their exchange was like a telegram, all pauses and no flow, until they reached the chilled, wooden floor of the downstairs.

"I'll meet you outside, okay? I need to get my jacket."

Dom adjusted the cross of silver at his chest, nodded slightly, and exited the house with his sister. Letty moved to mimic him, but her neck was bare; the only gods she prayed to were the car gods, and even they were nameless. Briefly, the girl lingered at the bottom of the stairway, imagining the Torettos rigid and wordless on the porch, their weariness as sodden as the dark sky above them. "Off to visit Daddy Toretto," she muttered, adding privately, _It's too bad he died on Halloween_. A severe, but frequent thought—she sometimes found herself wondering why the crash had to happen on Halloween, and not why the crash had to happen at all.

Donning her bomber jacket, Letty quit the house and quietly took her place next to Dom. As a means of comforting the man, and perhaps herself, too, she laced her fingers with his, and together the trio disappeared in an excited, vibrant swell of umbrellas.

_-Fin_

**~O~**

Author's Notes **(PLEASE READ)**:

I know, I know, the late Toretto's car crash didn't happen on Halloween; I haven't a clue when it actually happened. But I wanted to use Halloween to explore Mia's thoughts about her father's death, which the film fails to do; we only see Dom's POV. Actually, this story is about 2,000 words longer—confronting each character on his/her thoughts about the late Toretto's death—but I found myself meandering, so I severed it. Letty, and not Dom or Mia, is supposed to be the central character; too many POVs, I think, tend to complicate a story. If I finish the full story, I'll consider posting it. We'll see. :) Thanks for giving my little story a try! :)


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